


Betrayal

by TracedViolet



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, Rape, its not grimmons, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26186110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracedViolet/pseuds/TracedViolet
Summary: Simmons gets infected by O'malley and finds only one way to take out his frustrations.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Betrayal

Private Dexter Grif plopped down onto the locker room bench and popped off his helmet with a dejected sigh. Another boring day in a boring canyon. Every day was the same old shit of fighting but not fighting the stupid blues on the other side. At least his patrol was over now and he could take a much deserved nap. Standing around doing nothing could take a lot out of a person and the only good solution for such things, he thought, was a good old nap.

Grif had already started the process of unclipping the breastplate of his armor when something caught his attention from the doorway.

“Hey, fatass.” Simmons called out, but it wasn't his usual teasing. There was something in his voice. Some strange, deep echo just underneath his normal tone that filled the room with a sinister air. His stance was bizarre. Usually, the maroon soldier had impeccable posture but at the moment he stood slouched over, his helmet hanging loosely in his hand as he leaned against the doorway like he wasn't used to standing in his own body.

“What?” Grif asked a little more defensively than he usually would. Something was up. The anxiety building in his gut told him so but Simmons was also his partner. Maybe there was a reason for all this?

“I think it's time you finally show me a little respect.” Simmons said, an eager smile playing on his lips, then he let out a cackle that Grif could only describe as evil.

Against his better judgement, Grif stood up and started to walk over to where Simmons stood in the doorway. “Dude, are you ok?” he started but before he could get the entire phrase out, he was punched directly in the face.

“What the fuck?!” Grif exclaimed as he was then pushed to the floor. Simmons dropped on top of him and wrapped his hands around his throat beginning to choke him.

Grif sputtered for a moment, trying to speak but nothing was coming out. He grabbed Simmons arms trying to pull him off but it was to no avail. Confusion and betrayal flooded Grifs face but Simmons didn’t care. In fact, this was exactly what he wanted to happen.

After years of abuse from the rest of his team, after taking their shit day in and day out, after being the one and only person around with any sense yet never seeing an ounce of gratitude, Simmons had finally had it. With a little help from O’Malley, he had snapped and he knew just the person to take his frustrations out on.

Grif’s armored hand squeezed around Simmon’s metal arm. it was about the only thing that could do any harm considering there was nothing there anymore. just a metallic limb that Simmons didn't feel belonged to him at all.

it disgusted him, its existence. He couldn't feel a thing. not a burn or a cut or the exhaustion in his muscles. Nothing. But as Grif’s MJOLNIR grip tightened even further, there was a sound. the odd, grinding, creaky sound of metal being crushed, and a sharp electric current spiked up Simmons’ spine. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. a feeling he'd never thought he'd miss.

Pain.

The rest of Simmons' actual muscles stiffened as the sensation grew with each passing moment. it was exhilarating. to feel the pulse of his artificial blood struggle to pass through the restricted vessels and in an effort to enhance the experience, he tightened his own grip on Grif's throat.

Grif made a strange gurgling sound. He couldn't breath and the only damage he'd done was slightly dent Simmons’ arm. The lack of air was becoming unbearable and all he could do was dig his gloved nails into Simnmons’ shoulder. his vision was going black and he was seeing spots. He would go unconscious soon.

Suddenly, the hand around his throat was released and he inhaled deeply coughing a few times before lips were viciously crushed against his own. He had no idea what the fuck was happening or why. He struggled helplessly. Even though he was 10 times stronger in his armor than out, he still wasn’t in any shape to take on Simmons. Especially now that the dutch irishman was in some sort of overpowered psychotic state.

"MmPHH!!" Grif kicked at the air in an attempt to fight it but there was nothing to kick at. instead, the weight on his stomach shifted and his legs were suddenly pinned down completely. two boots wrapped around his knees holding him in place.

Simmons bit harshly at the younger's lips. He wasn't going to be nice about it. He liked the anger. He liked the charged atmosphere and he hoped that the stubborn brunet would put up more of a fight and make that delicious agony continue.

"ahh!" Grif let out a whine in pain, accidently leaving his mouth wide open and vulnerable for intrusion. The initiative was taken and a tongue forced its way inside. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bite the forgien object in his mouth but to no avail. The blood that now filled both their mouths only made Simmons kiss harder and the throbbing ache in the maroon soldier's tongue matched the growing one in his pants.

Simmons snaked an arm down Grif’s side, easily swatting away the brunet's attempts to stop him. unclipping the scratched and dented protective plates was much easier than he had anticipated. He was almost disappointed that the younger spartan didn't struggle as much as he should have. Instead it seemed he would rather be out of the armor than in it but that was all the more helpful to Simmons' objective.

Simmons ripped off pieces of his own armor in record time all while continuing to fight his partner. Grif, although still pinned in this disturbing battle, felt a little more in control of his movements now. with the bulky armor gone, he could move more easily and knock the red head right in the jaw.

A sharp pain split into Simmons’ face and radiated through out his head. he looked back down at the pinned spartan and gave a demented grin. Every punch, every kick, every attempt to fight was only going to make the red head happier. Simmons just hoped Grif wouldn't stop fighting. The fighting was what made it interesting. The fighting was what made him hurt. God did he like the hurt.

Simmons returned the blow to Grifs stomach making him wheeze and curl up slightly. This created the perfect opportunity for the taller spartan to unzip the black bodysuit covering his victim, peeling it away so the brunet was down to his boxers. Simmons grasped Grif’s throat again but not hard enough to keep him from breathing this time, leaning in close to kiss and bite at the exposed flesh of his neck and shoulders.

Grif's hands tightened around the metallic wrist a distressed sound escaping through clenched teeth as his head was forced to the side. What was this? He thought Simmons had been his friend and maybe something more than that. He would be lying if he said he hadnt fantasized about sex with his partner before but never like this. He had never wanted it to happen like this. Suddenly Simmons had turned into a monster and now Grif was literally being assaulted. Even as he fought he knew he was going to lose this battle and that thought terrified him. Not only because he was going to be raped but also because there was no soul in the entire universe he could ever tell about this afterwards. No one would ever believe him.

Simmons unzipped his own suit down far enough to pull out his cock. All the fighting and the fear in Grifs eyes had made him hard and he was ready now to prove how much stronger he was than Grif. How much better, more important and powerful he was. Simmons had never felt so powerful in his life and there was no stopping him now.

The maroon soldier pulled down Grif’s boxers and spread his legs, pushing them up against his chest to get better access to his hole. With a little spit in his hand to rub over his dick just to make it easier on himself, he slammed into his partner with no care and no remorse.

Grifs vision went blurry as he cried out in pain. He wasn’t prepared to take in something so big. Each and every thrust was unbearable and humiliating. He tried to push Simmons off but the taller soldier just grabbed his arms and pinned them at the sides of his head. No amount of thrashing about seemed to work. It was a futile effort and he was losing stamina. Eventually he did what he always did. He gave up.

The lack of a fight put Simmons off. This was not the fun he was looking for. He growled and forced Grif over onto his stomach so he could grind the orange soldiers face into the concrete. “Fucking pathetic.” he hissed into Grif’s ear, plunging his cock back inside him.

Grif winced but made no effort to get away. Tears had started to prickle up in his eyes as his best friend ruthlessly thrusted into him. Maybe if he just pretended hard enough that this wasn't happening he would wake up from this nightmare and everything would go back to normal. Despite these thoughts, a sickening feeling stuck inside his stomach. There was no going back after this.

And then something in Simmons snapped. Like a piece of his brain had suddenly left and all the anger drained from his body. Horror quickly filled the void left by O’Malley as he stared down at the damage he’d done. He quickly pulled out and tumbled back onto his hands, trying to put as much distance between him and Grif as possible. Grif now able to move did exactly the same.

“I-I-I” Simmons stuttered but nothing else would come out. What was there to say? How could he even explain? Everyone knew how O’Malley worked. He only amplified what was already inside you which meant all of this, every second was entirely Simmons' fault.

Grif only stared in terror, his breath ragged and fearful. When Simmons hesitantly stretched out a hand, Grif only pressed himself harder against the back wall. “S-stay the fuck away from me!” Grif yelled, panicked and trembling. He scrambled to pull his shorts back up and stand. When he was finally able to, Grif ran out of the room to his own quarters and sealed the door shut tight.

Simmons sat on the floor feeling nothing but the pounding of his heart in his chest and the sickening guilt filling his stomach. Simmons wished for nothing more in the world than to die in that moment. Simultaneously, in the other room, so did Grif.

There was no fixing this. There was no apologies. No remedies. No nothing. There was absolutely nothing that could salvage the only positive relationship they had to anyone in this god forsaken world and all because of a rogue AI.


End file.
